Holidays at Crescent Cove Page 12

  She looked up. “But you did.”

  He nodded.

  “But you brought it instead. And it’s been a over year.”

  “You’re awfully inquisitive.”

  “Listen. Nick Prescott is married to my best friend. They’re raising Ben’s child. We all knew Ben. I don’t want anything to hurt them.”

  “Connor’s here? Oh, good. Ben was worried about that.”

  “You know about Connor?”

  “Yes. When I went to Colorado, no one seemed to know what happened to the boy. But I was hoping he was with Nick in Crescent Cove, so I came here. It’s the best I could do for a friend.” He fell into silence. Took a breath. “That’s the story.”

  Bri’s breakfast was suddenly sitting heavy in her stomach. “The letter. Ben didn’t say anything bad, did he?”

  “I didn’t read it.”

  Chapter Four

  BRI’S CELL PHONE rang. She looked at caller ID. Margaux. “Excuse me,” she said, and hurried into the other room. “Hey.”

  “I just called to make sure you’re okay. Nick called and said there was a man there looking for him.”

  Bri sheltered the phone with her hand and walked past the noise of the television toward the back of the house.

  “He says he has a letter from Ben.”

  There was silence on the other end.

  “I asked him why he didn’t just send it. I think it’s one of those if-you-read-this-I’m-dead letters.”

  “Why now? After all this time?”

  “I asked him; he just said he had other things he had to do. He said he was working with some aid group over there, maybe he couldn’t get away.”

  “I sure as hell hope Ben didn’t do a final rant. Nick is just coming to terms with his death. If that’s ever possible. But you know what I mean.”

  Bri didn’t know the full story, but she knew Nick well enough now to know that he felt responsible for what had happened to Ben. Not just because he’d sent him to the army to keep him out of jail, but for not being able to be a father to him, when their father died.

  “Nick is totally tied up with a multicar pileup on the other side of town. Have they plowed out by you yet? Why don’t you come early and bring him with you. Nick will be more likely to swing by here than go out to your place, and I know he’ll be crazed until he gets a chance to meet this Mr. Henderson.” She sighed. “And so will I.”

  “They’re not here yet. But I heard rumblings of plows in the distance. It shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Good, I’ll make lunch. The roads here are clear. One of the perks—the very few perks—of being married to the chief of police.”

  Bri smiled at the way Margaux always said “married” as if it were a magic word. And to see Nick and Margaux together after so much heartache and betrayal, Bri knew it was . . . for them. She felt a little envious. But not enough to start looking at men again.

  She’d learned her lesson. And if she was ever in danger of forgetting it, it snowed or rained and the pain in her leg reminded her of why it was better to go solo from here on out.

  “Do you feel safe with him in your house?”

  “Yeah, but it’s kind of weird. He speaks Mandarin.”

  “You’re kidding. That’s a strange coincidence.”

  “Yeah. And I don’t believe in coincidences. The girls like him, though I’m not planning on turning my back on him for long, which means I’d better get off the phone.”

  “Good thinking. Call me every twenty minutes so I know you’re okay.”

  “That might be a little obvious.”

  “I don’t care. Call me.”

  “Okay. I hear the plows, but my service won’t be here until later. I’ll have to figure out a way to get to the snow blower and blow a path to the road without leaving the girls alone with him. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Have him do it. Fair payment for a night in the Bri Barn Hilton.”

  Bri laughed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  She hung up and went into the kitchen. David was gone.

  She quelled her first rush of panic. Probably in the bathroom. She tiptoed across the kitchen and looked down the hall. No sounds coming from the bath, but there were sounds coming from outside the kitchen door. She looked out.

  He was outside, shoveling a path to her SUV. Was he being polite? Or was he as anxious to be gone as she was to have him go?

  She went through the mudroom and stuck her head out the door. Her nose hairs bristled, it was so cold. “You don’t have to do that,” she called.

  He stopped and leaned on the snow shovel. “In exchange for breakfast and a night in your barn.” Each word was punctuated by a cloud of breath. “Besides, you’ll need to get your car out to the road, and I need to get into town and clean up before I meet the police chief. I thought maybe I could bum a ride from one of the plow boys. They sound pretty close.”

  “I’ve got a snow blower in the garage. And I’ll drive you to Margaux and Nick’s if you can clear a path to the road. You can shower and whatever while I get the girls ready.”

  He grinned at her from behind his day old growth of beard, and Bri wondered if shaving was part of his clean-up agenda. He stuck the shovel in the pile of snow and looked around.

  She pointed to the garage. “In there.”

  He touched his finger to his hat and trekked through the snow to the garage.

  Bri went inside to help the girls get dressed, which they did quickly when they understood they were going to see Connor.

  Margaux called again while David was in the shower.

  “We’re plowed out to the road,” Bri told her.

  “Good. I just put the mac and cheese in the oven. Mom’s recipe. There’s plenty. There’s stuff for salad, so don’t stop on the way. And I can rustle something else up for the adults, though I do make a mean mac ’n’ cheese.”

  “And I open a mean box,” Bri retorted. “Thanks, I’ll take you up on it.”

  “I’ll tell Nick to meet us here when he can.”

  Bri gathered up a change of clothes for the girls, some toys and their naptime stuffed animals, a bear and a rabbit that she’d brought to China and back again.

  The three of them were sitting on the couch reading Pokey Little Puppy when David appeared, wearing jeans and a clean looking if slightly rumpled plaid shirt. The beard was gone. And Bri’s heart skipped a beat at the transformation.

  “Thanks. I feel almost human.” He smiled, but his expression clouded. “I mean it. Thanks.”

  “No problem. Margaux invited us all to lunch. You’re probably hungry after all that snow blowing. And the girls are always hungry.” She gave them both a squeeze. “Coats,” she said. “Connor’s house.”

  They slipped off the couch and ran for the mudroom.

  David followed them out.

  The girls were halfway into their snowsuits and jackets, and David was stuffing things back into his backpack, when Bri got to the mudroom. He didn’t look up. Just zipped the backpack, lifted it onto one shoulder and opened the door for them.

  The girls climbed into their car seats and Bri fastened them in. David tossed his pack in the back hatch and got in the passenger side.

  The girls chattered away, excited to see their friend Connor. Bri concentrated on driving and David looked out the window for the entire drive to the beach community where Margaux and Nick lived.

  He’d been so engaged during breakfast, but now he seemed remote. Maybe he was worried about what the letter he was about to deliver said and how it would affect Ben’s brother and the rest of his family. He might even be planning his escape if they decided to blame the messenger.

  She wanted to reassure him that whatever the letter contained, they wouldn’t blame him, but she knew that it would fall on deaf ears. David Henderson had withdrawn into his own
world.

  A few minutes later Bri pulled the car into the parking area at the back of the Sullivans’ beach house. She and Margaux and their best friend, Grace, had spent so many wonderful summers there that just the sight of it made Bri relax.

  She hadn’t really been aware of just how tense she’d been until she saw her old friend smiling and running toward the car, pushing her arms into a huge orange parka that had to be Nick’s. It clashed terribly with her nutmeg red hair.

  Margaux glanced in the passenger side at David, nodded to him, then opened the door to the backseat to let Mimi out of her harness.

  “Hi guys. Connor’s so excited that you’re here.”

  Lily was already trying to get out of her car seat when Bri opened the opposite door.

  David got out of the car. Reluctantly, Bri thought. And who could blame him?

  “Come on inside,” Margaux said over her shoulder. “The heat’s pumping and lunch is almost ready. And wait until you see our tree.”

  DAVID FOLLOWED THE others into a warm, friendly kitchen with old-fashioned wallpaper of watering cans and ivy. It reminded him of his grandmother’s house. It was one of the few things he remembered about it or even his grandmother.

  While Bri and Margaux were busy getting the girls out of their winter gear, a young boy in sweats and fleece-lined moccasins ran into the kitchen. He slowed down and looked at David, then continued out to the mudroom.

  David stared after him. Dark hair and eyes, eyes David had seen before. He had to be Ben Prescott’s child, Connor.

  Why? Why hadn’t Ben wanted to come back to this? His child. His family. Why had David agreed to keep his letter? Maybe if he’d refused to take it, Ben would have had second thoughts about what he was about to do.

  He closed his eyes on the image of their last conversation. “What happens when the war is over?” Ben asked him, but it was a rhetorical question. “None of us can ever go back to what we were.” That boyish smile. “In my case that would be a good thing.”

  David should have said,“There will be another war.” There was always war in some place. Where the victims were mostly innocent. Where people like David with skills but without the supplies or equipment to use them, tried to clean up the mess. Whether it was mortar and bombs or the aftermath, when the weapons were gone and disease, hunger, and fear replaced them. But he didn’t say any of that. Just “Okay.”

  “Is everything all right?”

  He came back to the present. Tried to smile at Margaux Prescott, Ben’s sister-in-law. She looked so concerned. Was it for him, a stranger? Or for her husband? This was going to be even harder than he expected. And at this point he already expected everything to be hard.

  There was nothing good about war. Not loyalty, valor, heroics, camaraderie. It sucked. It killed. It maimed—

  “David?” Bri said.

  David started. He nodded toward Connor, who was dancing around the girls with cries of “Hurry up, slow pokes,” while Mimi and Lily scrambled out of their boots and into their house slippers.

  “He looks like his father.”

  “Yes, he does,” Margaux said. “Let me take your coat.”

  He hesitated. He could drop the envelope on the table and leave. Pick up his backpack and walk to the nearest highway. Going north, south, west, it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have to stay and see them react to whatever was in that envelope.

  Maybe he should have read it first. Maybe he should have left well enough alone. Pretended that it didn’t exist. They would never have known. But he couldn’t do that. It might be the one thing that brought them closure. Acceptance.

  He unzipped his jacket and handed it to her.

  She took it with a tentative smile. “Why don’t you guys go out to the parlor. See our first Christmas tree.”

  Yeah, c’mon.” Connor motioned to the girls. Lily ran to him, but Mimi clutched Bri’s hand.

  “Can I come, too?” Bri asked.

  “Sure. C’mon.” Connor and Lily disappeared from the doorway, and Bri coaxed a timid Mimi out of the kitchen.

  David felt a hand on his arm and he turned to see Margaux smiling at him. “David. You’re welcome here. We appreciate that you’ve taken the time to come yourself. Especially now, during this season.” She bit her lip. She was a lovely, poised woman, chic somehow in the old fashioned kitchen. It seemed weird to David to find two such sophisticated women living in a small town. Two beautiful women, obviously cultured, one alone in a dilapidated old farmhouse with two adopted children; the other in an old fashioned beach house married to a small town cop.

  “Would you like some coffee or something?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll just—”

  “Make yourself at home,” she said as the oven buzzer went off.

  David didn’t offer to help. He knew he should, but he was disconcerted. The outsider in this strange but comfortable mix of people. He wished he could have known them without that letter hanging over them all. He wished the chief would get home, so he could deliver it and leave. He didn’t belong here. Had no right to be here.

  He had to fight the urge to run. Grab his coat and backpack and head for the highway.

  Margaux took a large casserole dish out of the oven and put it on top of the stove. The smell of mac and cheese wafted toward him. So keen, so full of his own memories that he wanted to cry. But he hadn’t cried in a long time.

  “Let’s join the others,” she said, and steered him into a hallway toward the front of the house and a parlor where a ceiling-high Christmas tree filled one corner of the room, every inch decorated with eclectic ornaments and lights.

  The girls sat on the floor while Connor pointed out the ones he’d made at school. Bri sat on an old trunk, listening just as raptly as Mimi and Lily.

  “He used not to talk except in whispers,” Margaux said quietly. “He found his way back.”

  David stared at her. Ben wouldn’t be coming back ever. Or was she talking about him?

  Lily climbed up into Bri’s lap. Took her face in both hands. And started jabbering away.

  “What, sweetie? What do you want?”

  Lily pointed to the big gaudy star at the very top of the tree.

  “A star like Connor’s?”

  Lily pointed some more. Slid down and ran to David. Talked to him so fast that he had a hard time not laughing.

  “Tree,” he said.

  Her bottom lip stuck out.

  “Tree,” he repeated, and pointed to it. “Tell Mama.”

  Lily ran back to Bri. “Chee.”

  “Tree? You want a Christmas tree?”

  “Chee. Me.”

  Bri laughed. “Okay. How about Mimi. Tree?” She pointed to Mimi, then Lily, then herself. “For us?”

  Mimi nodded.

  Lily ran back to the others. She and Connor jabbered away, each in their own language, neither minding that the other didn’t understand what they were saying. At some point they would. Children were like that. Too bad adults weren’t as smart.

  He heard a door open and shut. Margaux left them. David suddenly felt cold in the cozy room. Nick Prescott was home. Footsteps crossed the kitchen, and David knew it as sure as he knew it was too late to chicken out now. A minute later a shadow fell across the doorway, and David came face-to-face with Nick Prescott.

  Chapter Five

  NICK PRESCOTT WAS taller than his brother, bigger-boned, more strong-willed, and carrying a deep pain. David had seen that look in men’s eyes before. He just hoped he wasn’t going to make that pain worse.

  Do no harm, he repeated to himself as he stepped forward to shake hands.

  They exchanged names formally, like two businessmen at a board meeting.

  David had already removed the letter from his pack and transferred it to his shirt pocket. He didn’t want to have to fumble through what had to be a
n excruciating moment to the man who stood stoically in front of him. Not unfriendly, but preparing himself for whatever the letter contained.

  He reached in his pocket and held out the folded envelope, hoping whatever it contained wouldn’t prove too much for this man to take.

  Nick took it. Looked at it. Glanced over to his wife, then turned around and left the room. Bri moved to Margaux’s side. Margaux didn’t attempt to go after her husband. Some things were best done alone.

  Feeling like a harbinger of doom, David couldn’t make himself move. He knew he should get his pack and walk away. But he had knowledge, stories, words that Nick Prescott didn’t, and he felt the responsibility not to leave until he’d tried to make a terrible thing more understandable.

  And then it would be over. He’d find a job somewhere. Working with his hands, but not anything where lives hung in the balance. Carpenter. Plumber. Mechanic. He’d learned a lot about a lot of things in the last decade. A handyman. A little of this and a little of that. The only blood, if spilled, would be his, from a cut finger, a scraped elbow.

  He felt a tug at his leg. Lily shoved her scruffy bunny at him. He looked at her and she pushed it at him again. He took it. Knelt beside her and thanked her for sharing.

  She reached up and squeezed his face in both hands.

  His throat felt tight. “Bunny wabbit,” he said.

  She squealed with delight and pulled him toward the Christmas tree where Connor and Mimi were playing a mysterious game with colored blocks. They made room for him and Lily, and they all played. As far as David could tell, nobody knew the rules and nobody cared.

  BRI STOOD AT the window next to Margaux and watched Nick stop by the lifeguard stand where Ben had spent so many summers. She put her arm around Margaux, and Margaux linked hers around Bri’s waist. They didn’t look at each other. Bri was having a hard time holding in her tears and her anxiety, and she knew if she looked at Margaux they would both lose it.

  Margaux never told her what Nick had said about Ben’s death, but she’d been around them both long enough to know that Nick felt responsible for it, and that it weighed him down in spite of Margaux and Connor and their love for him.